


Better Than Pretend

by CelesteFitzgerald



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24245659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteFitzgerald/pseuds/CelesteFitzgerald
Summary: An obnoxious girl at the coffee shop won't quit flirting with George. Luckily, a handsome stranger comes to his rescue—by pretending to be his boyfriend.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	Better Than Pretend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rufusrant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufusrant/gifts).



> The lovely rufusrant wanted a cute Starrison AU fic, so I gave it my best shot!

George always did his best to be polite, but he was nearing his breaking point. All he wanted was a nice cup of coffee. He could have bought it to-go like he did every other day, but _noooo_ , he just _had_ to grab a table to enjoy the atmosphere of the café.

Just his luck that a shamelessly infatuated young woman would invade the chair opposite him. She hadn’t been so bad at first, but now that it was approaching fifteen minutes since this Erica girl started talking, George was ready to scream.

“I love your hair,” Erica said, tilting her head so her own hair cascaded over her shoulder.

“Yeah. That’s great,” George said, looking down at his phone.

To his horror, Erica reached across the table to run her fingers through his hair. “It’s so soft—what do you put in it?”

“Shampoo,” George snapped as he grabbed his cup and took a large swig, jerking his head out of her grasp in the process.

Still captivated, Erica sighed. “Wow. Maybe sometime we can go shopping together and you can show me where you get your beauty care products.” She placed her hand over George’s and squeezed.

George’s eyes shot up as he tensed his other hand into a fist. He couldn’t do this right now, he wanted to _leave_ —

“Ahem.”

George whipped his hand away and spun around to find a young man with a very cheerful smile that didn’t match his leather jacket and scruffy beard.

“Sorry I’m late, babe,” said the man who George had never seen before in his life. He rubbed George’s shoulder and pointed at Erica. “Who’s this?”

With his mind reeling from all these strangers touching him—not to mention whatever the hell this guy was talking about—George stayed silent.

Erica’s eyes were frozen wide as she opened and closed her mouth a few times. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t realize—oh god,” she sputtered, blushing as she scooped up the rest of her muffin and ran for the door.

George breathed in relief—until he remembered that the strange man’s hand was still on his shoulder. He glared up at him until he pulled his hand away. “Alright—who the hell are you?” George asked.

“Sorry. Wasn’t trying to make you more uncomfortable than you already were,” he said, taking a step back to give George more room. “I just couldn’t stand watching that girl invade your personal space.”

“…So you decided to invade my personal space for yourself?”

He winced. “Sorry. It wasn’t my best plan. I was trying to act fast—you looked like you were getting really upset and she was too blind to realize how awful she was being.”

George’s face softened. “Well, you’re not wrong about that…Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” the man said, cracking a lopsided smile. “I’ll get out of your hair now,” he added, drumming his fingers against the edge of the table as he turned away.

As George watched him go, something came over him. Maybe it was his act of kindness—or his deep voice, or his gorgeous eyes—but George didn’t want to say goodbye yet. “My name’s George—by the way.”

The man paused and looked over his shoulder. “I’m Ritchie.”

 _An awfully cute name for such a tough-looking guy_ , George thought, but he didn’t dare say it out loud. “You can sit down if you’d like,” George said.

“Sure, why not?” Ritchie said as he slipped into the chair. “Why? Did ya like hearing me call you ‘babe?’” he teased.

“Oh, fuck off,” George said, balling up his serviette and flicking it at Ritchie’s face. It bounced off his nose, and George laughed. Hopefully any redness on his cheeks could be passed off on his laughter rather than Ritchie’s comment.

“Talk about invading personal space,” Ritchie muttered, rubbing his nose. “So, why _weren’t_ you interested in that girl anyway? Just not in the mood, seeing someone else?” Ritchie looked down at the table. “…Not your type?”

George smirked. “Yes, I’m gay and single, if that’s what you’re gettin’ at.”

“I-I’m just making conversation,” Ritchie said, but George caught him blushing. “She might have gotten off your back earlier if you told her you’re gay.”

“I _did_.”

“ _What?_ And she kept flirting anyway?”

“I think she was in some pretty deep denial.”

“Damn,” Ritchie shook his head. “Guess the bubble finally burst when I showed up and scared her off with my gayness.”

“Hah—sure,” George rolled his eyes. “ _That’s_ what scared her off—not that she was afraid you’d beat her up.”

Ritchie’s eyes widened. “Why would she think that?”

“Well,” George said, his head tilting nervously from side to side. “…You know,” he finally said as he gestured toward Ritchie’s overall appearance.

“I know?” Ritchie echoed, mockingly flailing his hand around.

“You’ve got that sexy tough guy look going on,” George said—then he cringed when he realized he had said the s-word out loud.

Ritchie burst out laughing. “Like you’re one to talk, Mr. King-of-the-resting-bitch-face.”

“ _Hey_ —I don’t have resting—it’s not…” George frowned. “Is it really that bad?”

“Nah. I think it’s cute,” Ritchie said with a wink.

George bit his lip to hold back his smile, but it was impossible to hide his happiness with those blue eyes looking into his.

He would have loved to keep talking for hours, but Ritchie glanced down at his watch and swore. “I’ve gotta get going,” he said. “But if it’s alright with you, maybe I can invade your personal space again sometime?”

George smiled wider. “I’d love that.”

Ritchie grabbed the serviette George had thrown at him and flattened it out. After jotting down his number, he slid it across the table. “Thanks for a lovely conversation, George,” he said, standing up. “It was fun being your pretend boyfriend.”

“Likewise,” George said, tucking Ritchie’s number into his pocket. He sipped his now cold coffee as Ritchie waved to him from the door. As nice as it was being Ritchie’s pretend boyfriend, George thought that being his real boyfriend would be even better.


End file.
